


All You Hold Dear

by thequeensofwinter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Gen, Multi, Near Future, Queen Sansa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 21:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeensofwinter/pseuds/thequeensofwinter
Summary: A tale of younger queens and valonquars.





	All You Hold Dear

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up right at the end of Season 7 of the TV Series. Past plot points follow that of the show, but characterizations mostly follow that of the books (because they're much more nuanced and detailed, tbh). Enjoy.

Sansa sat still as the Northern lords surged to their feet, their yells and questions and clanks of armor filling the Great Hall. On either side of her, Arya and Bran sat as still as she did, all three of them staring into the cacophony like statues of ice.

Of their own accord, Sansa’s eyes flicked to the corner of the hall where Littlefinger had always stood. She inhaled sharply when her eyes met only blank wall, and quickly turned her gaze down to the table before her. Petyr Baelish was gone; his lessons were all that were left of him, and now they were Sansa’s to use — or not use — as she pleased.

“My lords, my ladies.” Her voice cut through the din, and the Northern nobles quieted and sat as she rose to her feet. “My brother’s decision is final.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bran turn his head slowly to look at her, while Samwell Tarly gave a little start. She’d ask about that later, she told herself.

“What do we care for his decision?” growled Lord Manderly as he clambered back to his feet. “We crowned Jon Snow, the bastard, the oathbreaker, we crowned him and named him the White Wolf, and this is how he repays us? He betrayed us! He betrayed the North!”

A chorus of “aye”s followed the lord’s words. Sansa raised her hand for peace. “Jon believes Queen Daenerys’s dragons are the best chance to destroy the White Walkers. He did this to save us.” He did, Sansa told herself. That’s why he so callously threw the Northern crown aside, without a word to the people who’d set it upon his head.

“We won’t kneel to any more Southerners,” Lord Glover declared. “All they’ve done is kill us and try to make us heel. They killed your own grandfather, Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, Lord Brandon — your aunt, your father, mother, brother—”

“We remember,” Arya said coldly, and Lord Robett fell silent.

“Jon Snow should have known better than to bow to the family that murdered his,” Lady Lyanna said as she got to her feet. She was frowning more fiercely than ever, and Sansa’s heart felt heavy at the girl’s disappointment. Lady Mormont had been Jon’s most loyal supporter, and she deserved better.

Lady Lyanna now turned to Sansa. “Jon Snow is no longer our king — he gave up the crown when he bowed to the Dragon Queen. But the North knows no king — or _queen_ — but the King in the North, whose name is STARK.”

The lords and ladies around her roused, clapping, stomping, shouting. “Lady Sansa!” little Lyanna called. “Lady Sansa, will you take up the crown?” 

It was getting hard to breathe. The crowd was making such noise, and all Sansa could do was glance down at her sister. Her sister, who’d accused her of wanting to steal Jon’s throne — 

Arya looked back up at her, her face blank, as it almost always was these days.

Then, the corner of her mouth lifted.

Sansa took a deep breath and looked back at the still-clamoring nobles. “If it pleases my lords and ladies, I will take up the crown.”

“It pleases us!” Lord Cerwyn roared, and his peers roared with him. “You’ve led us well these past few moons. The North is ready for winter. And Winterfell is free from the Boltons thanks to you and your friends from the Vale.” He nodded to the cluster of Vale lords standing to the side of the room.

“The Vale is with you, my lady,” Lord Royce told Sansa. He had assumed the regency of the Vale following Littlefinger’s death; the letter bearing the seal and childish signature of Cousin Robin had arrived yesterday. “We would rather follow you than the Targaryen girl.”

“The Queen in the North!” Lyanna Mormont yelled.

“The Queen in the North!” the lords cheered.

 “The Queen in the North!”

 “ _The Queen in the North!”_

 “THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH!”


End file.
